For reasons unknown, my spirit could only follow Matthew.

He and Halle still lived in the same house, which I hadn't visited in ages.

When I was alive, Matthew never allowed me to come back.

Seeing him now, busy in the kitchen making dinner for Halle, I couldn't help but give a wry smile.

Who would have thought that someone so cold could cook such a delicious meal?

When the food was ready, Matthew called out, "Sis, dinner's ready!"

Halle walked into the room, her face showing signs of distress as if she had just had a nightmare. Matthew, concerned, asked, "Sis, what's wrong?"

Halle, with a slight quiver in her voice and a strained smile, replied, "I just miss Mom and Dad."

Halle's emotional finesse was truly impressive, hitting all the right notes, even in her distress. Matthew paused for a moment, then assured her, "Sis, you still have me."

As I watched them naturally lean into each other, I was taken aback.

I could clearly see the shyness in Halle's eyes—definitely not the kind of look a sister would give her brother.

At that moment, a wave of terror surged within me, as intense as the fear I felt before my death. I thought, Matthew, you can't fall into this trap!

The Halle in front of you is no innocent lamb. She watched me being dismembered and even hid my head.

"Matthew, it's been a while since we've heard from Cate. Maybe give her a call? It's not easy for her out there alone."

Matthew stiffened, his muscles tensing as he abruptly pulled away from Halle. His face was a mask of cold indifference. "Why bring her up? What happens to her out there is none of my concern. Don't mention her in front of me again.

"Let's eat, Sis."

Halle lowered her head, a satisfied and slightly smug smile on her pretty face.

It was the same expression she had when she watched me being dissected.

I had sensed something off about her long ago.

The first time I noticed that look in her eyes was eight years ago when my beloved kitten died under mysterious circumstances.

I remember that day vividly.

It was pouring rain, and Dad had been called away by his colleagues at the police station. My stepmother had gone out to pick up Matthew from his tutoring session, leaving just Halle and me alone at home.

When I went to feed the cat, I saw Halle looking toward the cat's bed with a smile that was both smug and unsettling.

My kitten suffered for a few minutes before its body went limp and lifeless. I was sure Halle was responsible.

I tried to confront her, but Matthew, back from his tutoring, ended up snapping at me, "What does Halle have to do with the cat's death? Stop making a scene!"

At that moment, Halle's gaze was just as smug and satisfied as she was now.

After my mother passed away and my stepmother brought Halle into our home, everything changed.

I felt more out of place in the house, and even Matthew, who had grown up with me, seemed to prefer Halle over me.

The death of my kitten left a hollow ache in my heart.

I knew no one would believe me if I spoke up.

No one would believe that the sweet, understanding Halle could be capable of something so cruel.

That night, I cried for hours. When Dad asked me what was wrong, I couldn't help but tell him everything I had seen.

He told me not to overthink it.

I was heartbroken and reluctant to return home, using the excuse of staying over at a friend's house.

I never expected Dad to come looking for me that night.

He told me he believed in me, gently patting my head as he said, "My little princess has grown up.

"You're even stronger than I imagined.

"Whatever you want to do in the future, I'll support you!"

That night, we talked openly for hours, and both felt better.

None of us could have predicted that tragedy would strike on the way back.

If I had known this would be the outcome, I would have never been so reckless!

Our brakes failed.

To avoid a large truck ahead, our car crashed into a roadside utility pole. In my daze, I felt a pair of warm hands lifting me, followed by a deafening explosion.

"Boom!"

When I woke up, I was met with the devastating news: Dad had died, and my stepmother had taken her own life.

Matthew was like a wild lion, his eyes blazing with rage, as though he wanted to tear me apart.

"Why didn't you die? Why are you still alive?

"It's all your fault!

"If it weren't for you, Dad wouldn't have died, and Halle's mother would still be alive. Why did it have to be you who survived?"

At that time, I shared his anguish. I, too, wondered why it wasn't me who had died.

The guilt was overwhelming. Matthew wouldn't let me near him, nor would he allow me near our home.

He declared that from now on, Halle was his only family.

And Halle, even then, still wore that same cold, calculating look in her eyes.